The February long wind blew across the highlands, unlike the warm coastal lowlands, it carried a hint of chill. The young King sat solemnly on the throne within the grand tent. He surveyed the two submissive, downcast Vastec girls before him with scrutinizing eyes.
The two girls resembled each other closely, clearly sisters, so similar at first glance that they were easily confused. The one on the left was slightly older, her figure more pronounced, her lips lifting slightly in a smile, as alluring as a white orchid in summer. The one on the right appeared somewhat younger, her lips pressed tightly together, looking uneasy, as pristine as a daisy in early autumn.
At this moment, faced with the fearsome reputation of the Great Chief of the God of Death, the two girls pressed their shoulders together, their expressions tense yet carrying an indescribable expectation.
"Hmm? Are you the daughters of Chief Papata of the Silver Raven Tribe, Liuyu and Liuyao?"
